


Like a Virgin

by VerySunnyDay



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Community: homesmut, Gang Rape, Incest, M/M, Multiple Penetration, Victim Blaming, anal double penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerySunnyDay/pseuds/VerySunnyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt:<br/><i>Bro brings home a few friends one night after he's been out drinking. Dave unfortunately gets caught in the middle.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Virgin

It's almost midnight and you're playing BroBoard on the X-Box when you hear a horde of elephants on the stairs trumpeting the fact that Bro is coming home, and he's not alone. In less ironic language this means that there is a horde of shitty drunk men attacking your front door like it's the only obstacle between them and total control of the apartment. Which is it, technically, but you can't stop Bro from bringing people home with him, so whatever.

Possibly the best course of action would be to turn the game off pronto and sneak off to your room like a scared baby monkey.

Hell no to that idea. You're finally getting somewhere in the game, and they have no right to drive you off when you're on a roll. This is your apartment too, and you're not going to run off and hide like a furniture-wetting puppy without even being asked to. You keep your eyes on the screen and your focus on the boarding shenanigans and there's no way you're going to lose your flow just because there are like a zillion drunk guys invading your living room.

It used to be Bro only brought one guy at home at a time. They were sometimes drunk, but they never this fucking _loud_. Of course, there's probably some kind of critical mass of horny drunkeness after which horrible noise just happens and it's not even anyone's fault. This is only the second time Bro has brought home a whole fucking street gang, and you're not even sure yet if they're here for sex or something else. If you're lucky, that particular orgy two weeks ago was a one-time thing. That time you hid in your room and broke your own eardrums with music in your headphones just to keep out the sounds of four or five guys loudly ass-fucking each other for hours. Just when you thought they'd stopped, they'd start going at it again, and no, you didn't get a wink of sleep that night. You have a suspicion this is about to be a case of history repeating itself, and yeah, you're going to leave, but you're about to set a new game record here, and you'd like it if Bro showed some consideration for your rad skillz if not for your tender virgin ears.

Someone bumps into your shoulder hard enough to throw you off balance, and you try to resettle yourself closer to the edge of the futon couch, but your concentration is broken and you missed that final jump that would have nicely doubled your score. The game is now thoroughly fucked, thank-you-very-much, and two guys you've never even seen before are dry-humping each other right next to you, the one on his back still bumping into your side and obviously not caring.

You put the controller down and let the boarding hero die seventeen grisly deaths before finally coming to a halt, then glance around for Bro. He's not paying any attention to you either, being busy with his tounge buried hip-deep in some other guy's throat over by the fridge and you doubt he even knows you're here. You sigh and resist the urge to facepalm. He brought no less than _six_ so-called "friends" over tonight, and out of those you only know one by name. That one would be Don, who's been over several times before – he's the pony-tailed guy whose hands are right now wandering up Bro's shirt from behind while Bro is macking on a blond stranger. Two guys are unpacking whole bags of cheep beer, even though everyone is already stinking of the stuff. Their conversation is loud and rude and the fact that drunken orgy stands on the meny is about as clear as a sunny day. One of them looks at you and _winks_ , so you quickly turn your face away.

The guys next to you have started kissing, and the bottom guy's hand is reaching up above his head, inching in under your ass, as if trying to dig for gold. Fuck this. You jump to your feet, suddenly twitchy. Sorry guy, no gold there. There's a sound of disappointment underneath the kisses behind you, and you start to think that being a scared baby monkey might not be so bad. You're getting the fuck out of here, adieu, sayonara, etcetera. These guys aren't going to be any less drunk and horny with you here, and if you stay any longer they might start hallucinating that you're one of them.

You bend down to turn the X-Box off, because you're the responsible one and you're still not about to run like a cat on fire from your own living room just because your Bro and his new lovers are too enthusiastic and/or drunk to see that there's a minor around. You do have a right to be here, and Bro hasn't even _asked_ you to go away. This irks you, though leaving with some dignity is about the only thing you can do about it.

Before you get back up, a large hand grabs your ass and squeezes, hard. "Hey," a deep, unfamiliar voice says as you spin around and almost flashstep into the TV. It's the beer can guy who winked at you, a large dude with short, brown hair and a close-cropped beard. He's holding a can now, casually offering it to you. "You're Dirk's lil' bro, aren'cha?"

"No, I'm his pet crocodile," you reply, and he laughs. You don't take the beer, but try to push past him, except he blocks your way with his free arm, capturing you in the corner between the TV and the wall. 

"You're a babe," he says, grinning sleazily. You don't like him, but hey, Bro can keep any company he wants. "I can see why Dirk's been holding onto you all by himself. Ever wonder what it'd be like with a _real_ man?"

There's a shitload of insults tagged to those sentences, but you've got better things to do than sort them all out. Absconding for one thing, because somehow walking out with dignity is starting to feel less important than getting out without being molested by a sleazebag, like Bro would even notice. "Fuck off." You duck under the guy's arm and run for it.

You get almost as far as the kitchenette by zigging and zacking between furniture and men before one of the dudes gets in your way and grabs your wrist. His fingers are like an iron shackle, and before you manage to twist free he's got you pinned against the kitchen counter, both hands caught by the wrists against the counter surface and his legs pressed around yours. You think you can feel the hardness of the erection under his jeans against your stomach, and this is where you're starting to feel a cold snake of real fear in your guts.

"'Sup, Dave." You look up and realize that this is Don – and he's always been passably nice to you before. He's got excellent taste in music. He wouldn't actually _do_ anything to you, even though the way he's eyeing you like a piece of meat right now is pretty much the definition of uncomfortable. And Bro is right there, looking on, so nothing will happen, nope. 

Oh hell. Bro is actually looking on, and you managed to get yourself into a compromising position. He's never gonna let you live this one down. 

You do your best to look like you're exactly where you want to be, even though it's not just Bro looking on, but all of the rest of the guys are starting to gather around you to see what's up. Some of them have hands down each others' pants, but that doesn't stop them from looking at you like you're the sexiest bitch they've ever seen.

"Hey, Don," you say in an attempt to sound casual. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Nah," Don says, and his breath _reeks_ of alcohol. "Fancy seeing _you_. I was thinking the other day that it was a pity you didn't join us last time. You have no fucking idea how happy I am to see you." He grins and rubs his crotch against your stomach, and several of the other guys snicker, including that bearded dude. You shudder involuntarily.

"I didn't think your lil' bro was interested in this kinda thing," the blond who Bro was kissing earlier says.

Bro shrugs. "Didn't think he was." His speech is a little bit slurry, but he's standing straight on his feet. Of course he'll help you if you need it. He's just trying to give you some space to make your own way, because that's the kind of guy he is.

"Good to be wrong sometimes, eh?" the blond says and reaches under the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you say, too loud for perfect casualness, twisting to get away from the new touch even though you can't free your arms from Don's grip. "I'm flattered by all the attention, but—"

A guy in the back laughs loud enough to drown you out. "He's flattered! The little brother isn't used to this kind of attention, is he?" 

"You haven't been spoiling him enough, Dirk!" someone else remarks.

"We can give you looots of attention, baby," a third someone promises, with agreement from every direction. 

You don't want attention. As a matter of fact, it'd be very nice if they could all go back to their business with each other and ignore you again. You wish Bro would say something, but he looks inscrutable and blank as always and doesn't say a word. "I was just about to leave," you say, raising your voice even more. "You go ahead and fuck each other silly, but—"

You're interrupted again, by Don. "Are you scared of us?"

"No," you say automatically.

Your pokerface is shit tonight, because even the horny drunk sees through it. "I bet you are." He turns to Bro. "Hey Dirk. Is your brother a virgin?"

"Actually, I think he—" Bro actually seems on the verge of saying something intelligent, but it dissolves into a moan when the blond guy unzips his jeans and rubs his cock or something. You can't see it clearly from this angle, but you did not need to see it at all. In fact, you did not need to be here for all sorts of reasons.

"Is he?"

"Yeah," Bro admits, gasping. "As far as I know."

"I thought so." Don's grin grows wider, and there are drunken sniggers from all around you. "What do you say, guys, do we educate an innocent tonight?"

The response is loud and cheerful like a pack of hyenas with a recently-dead cadaver. 

"Ooooh yeah." 

"Let's open that tight little ass up!" 

"We'll take _real_ good care of you!" 

"Only fair of Dirk to share."

Bro is keeping his mouth shut – or rather, he's moaning and panting and basically ignoring you – and your guts turn into an ice cave as it sinks in that these guys _mean_ it. "Like hell you will!" you try, but it doesn't come out as disdainful as you wanted, and it's almost drowned out by the general noise. Don's thighs are straddling your hips, his cock growning even harder against your stomach like it's trying to burst out of his jeans on its own, and he's still holding your arms down on the counter. You struggle, but the position is awkward, and you don't have enough leverage to give any real resistance.

Hands from the guys next to Don start wandering your skin under your T-shirt, making you squirm reflexively. Someone finds a nipple and pinches it, hard. You glance desperately at Bro, but he's turned away and you can't even tell if he's seeing you behind his shades. Fuck him, except that's exactly what's happening, and it isn't helping you any. _He_ isn't helping you any.

You get a chance when Don lets go of your wrists for a moment to unzip his pants. He doesn't expect you to fight, so you manage to push him away, then shove your shoulder into the next guy in an attempt to get past the crowd. It works about as well as can be expected. You're strong for your age, but these dudes are larger, stronger and not to mention a lot more numerous than you. You pathetically shout for them to get off you as they tackle you down on the floor and keep you there, tugging at your clothes in earnest now.

Your shirt goes off over your head and thrown away under the coach. Your shades stay on, which is a small mercy. One guy pulls you up against him and traps your arms against your sides as two others unzip your pants and tug them off, underwear and all, and you can't even see where they throw them. You're naked and vulnerable and absolutely not panicking.

"Calm down," Don says, like he should talk. He's still dressed, but his cock is out in the open now and it looks pretty damn excited to you. Also, fucking huge, and the idea of it getting anywhere _near_ you doesn't fill you with glee. "Don't be so shy."

"I'm not shy," you tell him, trying to catch your breath and your dignity and also not fall into pieces. "I'm frisky like a princess on a pea."

"That's the spirit, princess," the guy behind you says, and you immediately regret putting it like that. "Stop shaking so hard and relax."

"Of course he's nervous," a guy with a tribal tattoo on his cheek says. "Everyone's nervous for their first time. You should just relax and enjoy it." He grins and downs a can of beer in pretty much a single swig. 

"Poor little virgin."

"A good fuck will cure all that right up."

"Yeah, fucking usually cures virginity, bwah!"

Five pairs of eyes are watching you, five faces painted with varying degrees of lust and amusement, though you can only see four of them. Some are removing their pants, the others just taking out their cocks from their zippers like Don. You feel more naked than you've ever been, like they didn't just remove your clothes but a layer of skin as well. The guy behind you forces you up on your knees and tears his own pants down until you feel him rubbing what can only be a hard cock against your bare back. You feel ill.

_Yes_ , you're a virgin. You're hardly old enough for that to be a shame. And even if you knew for sure you were attracted to guys at all you sure as fuck aren't attracted to a half-dozen drunk men twice your age, even if they're invading you in your home on Bro's own invitation. You can't believe this is happening – these guys, Bro's lovers, _Don_ – and Bro doesn't even care. You can't see him at all anymore, but you think he and that blond guy disappeared onto the futon judging by the eager moans coming from that direction. Actually, irrationally, you're glad he's not watching you right now.

"If I say no," you tell them, trying desperately to keep your voice steady, "I bet even you know there's a word for that." You want to say the word, at least ironically, showing them you're not afraid, but it gets stuck in your throat. It's like saying it will make it true, and you can't do it.

Don bends down and takes your chin to tilt your head up. "You're not saying no, though, little cocktease." He's not smiling anymore. "You came on to us."

"That's right," the guy behind you says as he reaches down and starts fondling your cock, which sends a spike of unpleasant pleasure through your groin. Your cock immediately goes half-hard, like it was just waiting for the opportunity, like it'll take any excuse. Traitor. "Just because you're losing your nerve doesn't mean the _little_ little bro is losing his, eh?" the guy says, touching you, and you can feel his short beard scraping against your shoulder, smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You can't come up to us like that all cute and innocent and then change your mind, can you?"

"Exactly." Don straightens, looking pleased. "You took the first step, now go all the way."

But you _didn't_. Did you? Why the hell is your cock so happy about this? Maybe you stayed in the living room because you _wanted_ this, somehow? But you can't remember being a tease; all you tried to do was to get away. You open your mouth to object, but before you can make a sound it's forced open wider and filled up with hot flesh. 

Don's cock tastes like salt and sweat and might be the second most unpleasant thing you've ever had in your mouth. You try to jerk back to get it out, but he puts his hands on the back of your head and holds you still. His cock fills your mouth so it feels like there's no room for your tounge, and you suddenly have too much spit and you can't get that out either. You think about biting, but then you think about six or seven men being righteously furious with you, and it seems like an even less cool idea than Don's cock being in your mouth in the first place.

Don is speaking, but there's a _cock in your mouth_ and you can barely hear him. "—but I wanted to be the first one on his pretty face," he finishes, like you're not even there. You sincerely wish you weren't, but you are, and now Don is bending slightly to get his face closer to yours. "There _is_ a word for this," he tells you. "It's called 'education'. I know you're new at this, so I'll tell you now, you can't just keep my cock in your mouth, you gotta _suck_."

He's not letting you pull away. You try to swallow all that excess spit, which moves your mouth around his cock enough for him to nod approvingly, but it's not enough for him. " _Suck_ , I said. It's not that difficult, and it'll make me happy. Dave, believe me, you really don't want to make your first sex partner unhappy."

That sounds like a threat, and you have no way to retaliate except to suck his cock like your life depended on it, which it might. So you do. Bro certainly isn't gonna defend you tonight. You feel gross and dirty and sick, but Don starts moaning and moving his cock back and forth once you get a good rhythm going, and you bet that's a good thing. Maybe that means it won't be much longer until he's done, and you're not thinking any further than that, no.

You don't even know what the other guys are up to. You think someone's rutting against your back. Don's cock in your mouth becomes your only point of focus, and only because you can't _un_ focus it. You realize there's still a good bit of his cock left outside, but your mouth isn't big enough for any more, and it makes no sense how they do it in the pornos.

When someone's hands starts working seriously on your cock and balls, you might have made a strangled noise even through your filled mouth. There are sharp sparks of something shooting through your thighs and chest, and you can't even tell if it's pleasure or pain, only that it's further humiliating. Your own cock goes rock hard, but it's not like when you're masturbating on your own, and not only because it mingles with the sour taste of a rutting cock in your mouth.

"Dave," Don says, talking to you again though he's breathless now. "You're doing really well. Now whatever you do, _don't throw up_ , or I'll be really unhappy with you."

You get a second to process that before he takes you by the back of your head and shoves the full length of his cock down your throat. You gag, like that isn't the only thing to do when something that is not supposed to be in your digestive tracts gets suddenly pushed in there. He presses your face tight against his crotch while your stomach heaves uselessly, making his cock block the hamburger you ate earlier tonight as it tries to come back up. Your whole body goes into spasms, trying to fight its way free, but you're held in place, and there's genital hair in your nose and you _can't breathe_.

Then it's over, and Don quickly pulls his cock out all the way. You gasp for air, your jaws so wide open that your mouth feels empty, and most of all you want to double over and throw up all over the floor and to hell with Don beating you up afterwards. But you can't even do that. Someone pulls your hair to tilt your face upwards, and the bile rising in your throat slowly sinks back, even as a splash of something hot and slimy lands on your face.

It takes a second to realize that it's Don's jizz. It stains your shades and runs into your eyes, and for a moment you just don't know what to do or even think about it. They let go of your hair and your head falls forward, making the fluid run down your cheeks and drip into your mouth that you still haven't managed to close properly. It tastes like cock, too.

"Oh _Dave_ ," Don mumbles, red stinking face close to yours. "You loved that, didn't you? I always knew you'd be an eager little cockslut."

You turn your face away just as the guy behind you stumbles to his feet with a loud moan, and then you feel another splash of warm wet liquid hitting your back, making you shudder. But he's not holding you any longer; you're free, you could— you could—

You have to wipe your face. You have to _get it off_ , before it seeps into your skin and stays there as a dirty stain forever, but one of the guys – not Don – stops you.

"Leave it there, babe," he tells you, keeping your hands away. "It makes you even sexier." The stains on your shades makes your vision blurry, but you notice he's dark blond, with a crooked smile. You can feel his asscheeks on your thighs as he crawls up to straddle you, the wet point of his cock tracing a line up your chest.

You want to tell him off, to leave you the fuck alone, but you've finally managed to get your jaws shut and you don't dare open your mouth again. Someone else starts stroking your asscrack with slick, cold fingers even as the guy on your lap kisses you slowly on your sticky lips, parting them and running his tongue over your clenched teeth.

The noise in your ears solidifies into what might be an argument about who gets to go first in your ass. Something about the first guy getting the tightest experience, and _hell_ , you can't just _let_ them do this. You thrash, wrenching one arm free and try to twist to the side, but the guy straddling you gives you a push, and the end result is that you fall handlessly on your back. Your head rings with the impact, and the wet stain on your back gets rubbed into the carpet as you struggle for a few more seconds before realizing again how useless it is. You can't overpower them and you can't get away.

"Aww, come on, you're doing so _well_!" That was Don, you think.

"You like this position better?"

"Oh yeah, we can work with this."

The guy who was in your lap is reaching down between your legs, palming your balls, fingering them gently. He could crush them like a wingless fly in his fist if he wished to. You want him to let you go, but you want him to not crush your balls _more_.

You go limp - except not quite, because you're trembling, but you don't try to resist as several of the dudes spread your thighs apart and lift your legs by the knees, raising your ass from the floor. Parts of your body that are supposed to be private are suddenly public property, as large hands stroke the inside of your thighs, fondle your cock into going painfully rigid again and open up your buttocks to find your asshole.

You want to leave. You want to _come_. You want to die.

"You're such a good baby."

"Oh, look at that!"

"He's such an eager little slut once he gets going."

"Baby, you'll _love_ this."

You can't even see who does what, but you don't actually want to know. Don isn't down between your legs; he's sitting by your shoulder and petting your chest, occasionally squeezing a nipple and stroking his own flaccid cock with his other hand like he's trying to get it hard again. You can't breathe without hitching. Maybe those are sobs.

There's a loud noise somewhere between a moan and a roar from behind the futon. You think it sounds like Bro, like he's having the time of his life, and that fact is a cold black hole in your stomach even as the slick and slimy finger of a stranger massages its way inside your ass despite your best efforts to keep yourself shut. You know about lube and you're technically glad that they're using it, but maybe you'd been able to keep the finger out if it hadn't been so slippery, and now it's inside you. It feels odd. Weird. _Wrong._ Even the inside of your body isn't your private property.

"So fucking _tight_ , this is the most amazing ass ever," someone says, and maybe it's just a reflex, but you kick him. Or someone else. You kick _something_ , flailing your legs as far as you can go, but it's not very far.

"Take it easy, lil' bro!" He doesn't sound hurt, just a bit annoyed. 

"Don't be scared, we're taking _care_ of you," someone else says. A thumb rubs the tip of your cock, and a thin whine involuntarily escapes your throat. You don't want to feel this.

Another finger enters your ass, moving back and forth with the first one, trying to force you wider open, but you it doesn't work very well. You're still trying to clench your asshole shut, trying to squeeze the invasion away, though it's futile. Instead the fingers plunge deeper, and there's a third finger added, perhaps not even from the same hand. They pull in different directions, and now it _hurts_. More comments about tightness fly around your ears, but it's hard to listen. You still don't want to open your mouth, so you clench your teeth and stop breathing for a moment, but you still groan.

A few seconds later there's just the two fingers again, moving in circles at your entrance, trying to get you to soften up. To let someone's cock in. Someone tells you to relax, and it would obviously hurt less if you did, but you _can't_ , even if you wanted to. They say something more, but you can barely hear them through the disgust and arousal and discomfort and humiliation coarsing through you.

Bro could stop this. Maybe he doesn't want to; maybe he thinks this will make you a man, but in that case you don't want to be a fucking man. Maybe he'll stop them if you could catch his attention and beg. He'd never respect you again, though.

"Bro—" You stop, not sure you meant to say it out loud at all, but the men playing with your body certainly heard it.

"Ah, yeah."

"Heh, that only makes sense."

"It's his little brother after all, he does have the original claim. Heh!"

"It's good, though! Otherwise we'd probably need a fist fight over the lil' bro's ass cherry."

At first you don't know what they're talking about. Then you realize that they asked you a question seconds ago, and you weren't listening. _"Baby, who do_ you _want to go first?"_

"No," you mouth silently, but Don has already left your side and you hear a slap getting Bro's attention over by the futon. The fingers keep moving in your asshole and you feel too dirty to have a voice at all.

"Hey, Dirk," you hear Don say, "Did you know that your little brother _sucks_?"

Bro moans in a way that is less extatic and more annoyed before he answers in a voice slightly slurred and out of breath. "No, he's awesome. What?"

"Yeah, that too. Turns out he's a natural little cockslut, and we're initiating him in the ways of cocksluttery here. He gave me a most awesome blowjob for a beginner."

Bro grunts. "Really."

"Yep. And I wouldn't even dream of disturbing you and Steve's little duo episode here, but he actually asks for you to be the first in his ass."

Another voice, probably the blond guy, chuckles breathily. "You were wrong about him all along, then."

You can hear Bro stumble from the couch, and then you see him, just as naked as you are, though his shades are clean and as impeccable as ever. His cock is fat and erect and there's a brightly polka-striped ring wrapped around its base, and you _never_ wanted to see him like this. Worse, though, he sees _you_ , legs spread wide and cock hard and four different people poking the parts between your legs like you'd asked them to. Your fists clench, but you can't find the words to explain, so you just look at him, willing him to understand.

He makes that little "heh" sound that he always does when he's pleased with you. "Lil' bro," he says, almost affectionately. "Go bend over the backrest of the futon. That's comfy. I'll be right back."

You stare at him, barely processing what he said, but he just turns around and walks away, like everything is perfectly normal. You can hear the sound of tap water splashing from the kitchen sink. You want to scream, but there's nothing you can say, nothing that won't drive home the point that you feel like a disgusting piece of meat, and your own cock agrees with Bro that you shouldn't feel that way. You _should_ want this.

Your legs are dropped and the fingers withdraw from inside you, leaving you with a dirty aftertaste in your ass. Someone puts his arms around you and half help and half force you to your feet. 

"You're such a good boy," he tells you, breath hot and stinking on your neck. Maybe he's right.

Behind you, someone else moans a complaint. "I dunno how much longer I can wait, guys..."

"It'll be worth it." A hand slaps your ass, just hard enough to sting.

Your hands are shaking and the thought of pushing the men aside and trying to run stays half-formed in your mind, an impossible fantasy. You don't feel dead, but you wish that you did. Your face is sticky, you can still taste cock in your mouth, your asshole aches a little and feels wet and slimy, and your erection is slackening like a punctured balloon now that they've stopped fondling you.

They guide you to the couch and make you bend double over the backrest, your ass up in the air like the public property it is. Someone starts kneading your asscheeks like dough, and you feel a cock moving against the top of your asscrack. Two guys sit down beside you on the futon, their hands rubbing your back and their voices telling you how well you're doing, but it it feels like they're mocking you. You deserve it.

Your face is smushed against the futon seat - the same place where you sat until just a while ago and played video games, like you were a person in his own home and not a fucking smuppet. You rub your face slightly against it as if you could get the drying cum come off, but you don't dare use your hands, and it's too late anyway. You're never going to feel clean again. All it does is knock your shades askew, but one of the guys next to you puts them back in place, like he's doing you a service.

Bro's footsteps are unmistakeble, at least as long as he's not trying to be stealthy, and when he pushes the guy behind you away there's still a part of you wishing for him to lift you up and shoo the others away and give you your clothes and the very tiniest bit of your dignity back. He doesn't. You hear the squelch of lube slicking a cock, and then Bro's hands pull your legs apart and a finger slips up the crack in your ass. He's touching you the same way as all the others. There's no way out.

"You should have told me, Dave," he says, his voice thick and a little bit unsteady, but still too familiar for this. He parts your buttocks and you can feel the tip of his cock against your hole, and everything else is drowned out by the cold, dark _NO_ that fills your lungs and makes you choke. "I've had the hots for you for _years_ , but I kept telling myself it'd mess you up if I had you." He bends down and you can feel his hot breath on your back. "You should have told me you wanted me already."

"Bro, I—" Your voice is barely more than a whimper, and you're not even sure what you were going to say, because that's when he starts pushing himself inside you and all attempts at thinking coherently fades to black. It hurts. Your asshole is still tense, trying to fight intrusion, and even with the lube it's being forced open too wide, too fast. Bro isn't rushing it, inching his cock into you piece by piece, but it still feels like your ass is burning. You're being slowly impaled, deeper and deeper, like the _thing_ inside you is going to tear your stomach open and bleed you to death.

And the thing is _Bro_. Not a stranger or a half-aquaintance like Don, but goddamn _Bro_ , and he's pushing himself inside you like there's no part of you that belongs to yourself, and he just said he's wanted to do this for years. Oh god, what the hell _are_ you to him? 

You suddenly realize that you're crying. Tears are sinking into the futon seat and staining your shades even more, and your entire body is trembling, but Bro doesn't notice or care. "Lil' bro," he groans, bending over you, his lips touching your back now, and his cock is still sinking deeper, stretching you thin from the inside. "So tight. Dave. Dave. Dave."

The only sound that comes out your throat is some kind of half-voiced wail. Bro's cock cuts you open and pierces you as deep as it can reach, his weight almost crushing you against the edge of the backrest. You never knew how deep a cock could go. You think it's stabbing the very core of your being.

He starts to pull out, slowly, and it makes your ass hurt almost as much as going in did; then he changes directions again, pushing himself in faster this time. His balls slap against yours, and then he pulls back once more. Repeat, repeat, and all you do is sob and whimper. He's forcing himself into your insides, digging like a shovel, hollowing you out until there's nothing left inside you, until you're just body parts to be used. He keeps repeating your name and 'lil' bro' and panting wordlessly against your back, and you think this might have been on his mind every time he called for you ever. You hate him, but he's Bro, and you don't know jack shit about anything anymore.

Maybe you really wanted this and just never knew it. There's a part of the stroke he does that actually feels good somehow, like a heat through your loins, and your own erection chafes painfully against the back of the couch but doesn't go away. Bro's cock is like a spear stabbing you every time it goes in, but you think it might hurt less for every thrust. And still, all you feel is violated, dirty, _wrong_.

He goes faster and faster, his hands around your hips and his forehead against your back, and your tears just keep running. You can't stop, like he can't stop pistoning your asshole. You barely remember that there are other people in the room – it's just Bro now, in you, around you, everywhere, forcing you to feel him and hear him and smell him, making you one of his puppets. You can't even try to move; you can't breathe except in gasps around your sobs.

It takes an eternity, but then he comes. You know it because he stops thrusting and pushes his face away from your back, moaning hard. When his limp cock slips out of your ass you can feel his cum start trickling out of your hole and down the inside of your thighs.

The next moment there's hi-fiving and breathless cheers going on above your head. "That was one hell of a good ride," Bro says loudly as he crumbles down to sit on the floor by your feet, stroking his own stickiness between your legs. "Thanks. We gotta do it again sometime soon." 

You're still sobbing quietly into the futon seat. Your loins are flashing hot and cold. Even when Bro's hand disappears and for a moment no one is touching you anywhere, your ass aches and your cock aches and your gut feels as hollow and empty as what is left of the life you thought you had. You don't try to move because there would be no use.

You hear cans opening. They have more beer, and only now do you realize how unbearably thirsty you are. Maybe they'd give you a drink if you ask them, but they're talking too loudly to each other to hear you easily and the idea of voluntarily getting their attention makes you want to curl up and die.

"Good job popping the virginity from his ass, Dirk!" someone practically shouts.

"Who's next!?"

"How tight was he?"

"Tighter than your grandma's cunt, Ben."

"Oooh, burn."

"Fuck y'all," someone says, "I'm not gonna wait any longer!" At that, new hands force your buttocks apart. You go stiff, trying to brace yourself for what's coming, even though stiffness will only make it worse. You can't stop them. They're going to use you up. Maybe that's what you're _for_.

"You sure he's up to—" Bro starts, but he's immediately interrupted.

"No, see, this is now an impromptu educate-the-virgin night, so we gotta—"

Whatever else they say is lost to you, because that's when the guy behind you shoves his cock into your ass with all the force of a hammer on a nail. Your throat makes a sound between a gasp and a whimper. Maybe this one's cock is wider than Bro's, or maybe it's just drier, but it hurts _more_. He's not impaling you slowly, either; he forces himself all the way in and then just _sit_ there for several seconds. It feels like you've been punched from the inside; even your teeth are on edge. His breath is hot and heavy on your back, but he doesn't moan your name.

Maybe it should be better when it's not Bro. It's just some guy - you don't even know which one – but it's not better and it can't be; there's nothing 'better' available. Someone's cock is up your ass, and it's breaking you apart.

He pulls himself out with a deep breath, then stabs you again with a wordless groan. He's filling you differently than Bro did, touching new things that should never be touched, and his thrusts barely touch that one pleasant spot at all. It's just pain. You find yourself trying to shift your ass to change his angle, and it in itself horrifies you. You don't want him to hit the pleasant spot either, you want him to _stop_ , don't you? 

You can't move enough either way. His weight is heavy on your midsection, and his cock chafes against your asshole and stabs your insides with more force for every stroke. You're not even crying anymore, just panting and whimpering, trying to survive until he's done, a few seconds at a time.

There's a voice saying something close to your ear. It's hard to process anything but the cock assaulting your ass and you have to play it back in your mind to get the meaning. _"Hey, dude, I hear you're a cockslut and give nice blowjobs. And you did keep me from finishing with your big bro, so I think that means you owe me one."_

Your mind works practically in slow-motion. Your head is raised by the hair and you vaguely notice that someone is sitting backwards on the futon, his thighs on either side of your shoulders and his cock standing hard and red in front of your face. The guy behind you thrusts violently and you gasp, and then your mouth is filled with almost as much cock as your ass. 

Your ass is stabbed again. And again. You can't even gasp now, and for a moment you panic when you realize you're _suffocating_. You sniffle desperately to clear your nose from tear-snot enough to be able to breathe at all, and it's still not enough. Your heart is racing two hundred miles per hour and maybe suffocating would be good because then you wouldn't have to live through this.

"Come on, give me one like you gave Don."

You know he wants you to suck, and you know you _have_ to, but it's hard to do _anything_ when your guts are being impaled on a stranger's cock and your lungs are trying in vain to hyperventilate through half-clogged nostrils and there's a fucking piece of meat that tastes like shit filling your whole mouth. 

You still do it, wriggling your tongue and swallowing foul-tasting spit and finally figuring out how to suck him, too. Your neck hurts and you have to support yourself with your arms to stay up. Your shades are too clogged to see much of anything, but there isn't anything to see. It doesn't matter. You make Bro walk away from this guy, so you owe him this, and besides, you're a cockslut. Yeah. Somehow that reasoning jars with the pain and utter humiliation that's threatening to drown you, but. You can't think.

The cock in your mouth moves as the guy in front of you rocks his hips back and forth, but so much more gently than the cock in your ass. It touches the back end of your mouth when it goes forward, making your stomach clench, but at least he doesn't push down your throat. Maybe if you make him happy enough he won't, so you keep sucking and licking. You are so fucking disgusting.

The guy behind you comes with a loud groan. The pounding stops, and finally his cock leaves your sore asshole. Wetness runs down your thighs again, and your ass feels empty and raw. You want to relax and breathe, but the guy with his cock in your mouth isn't done yet, so you can't. For a moment it feels like the only important thing in your existance is getting him off too so he can get away from you, _out of you_. 

You suck him harder, but that only lasts for a few seconds before there are hands on your ass again. The guy in front of you thrusts a bit deeper into your throat when you tense reflexively, and a small wave of nausea hits you just as the next person's cock invades you from behind. 

You're surprised that you're surprised. You lose the rhythm and almost choke on the bile rising towards the thing in your mouth, but it could have been worse. The third person to go into your ass has made his cock all slick and slippery, and your muscles aren't fighting it much anymore. There's discomfort and shame but barely any pain at all when he penetrates you.

It aches when he thrusts, though. There are tendrils of repulsion and horror coiling around his movements inside you, but he also strokes that sweet spot that Bro did. It makes you moan involuntarily around the cock in your mouth and hate yourself for it, but the guy in front of you seems to enjoy it. You keep sucking him because you have no choice.

This is _you_. It's your life. It's what Bro wants you for, too. There's practically nothing left of you to humiliate, so you might as well relax and enjoy, but you _can't_. Your cock is hardening again and your ass is filled and your mouth is filled and you feel nothing but disgusting. If you had a wish, it would be to crumble to dust and disappear.

The dick between your jaws finally withdraws as your mouth is flooded with thick, salty slime. A finger wipes your cheek as some of the jizz drools past your lips, and you don't dare spit it all out. That blond face is hovering close to yours. "Go ahead and swallow," he says. It takes an effort, and you feel sick as the taste of it mingles with the half-pain half-pleasure spiking between your legs, but you do manage to force it down, though the taste never leaves your mouth. It doesn't make you any less thirsty, either. Your face falls forward into the cushion again, as if you could hide there.

There are words being said behind you. Something about changing positions, and then the one fucking you buries his cock in your hole and stops moving. He doesn't pull out as he heaves your legs over the backrest, and he doesn't even move all the way out when he tangles your legs around himself to turn you over on your back. You're like a bag of oatmeal, but you feel to raw and literally fucked up to either struggle or help it along. The cock is hard like a stone in your ass while the men shove you around.

You end up lying on your back on the futon with your knees on the guy's shoulders and your ass raised a little bit above the cushioned surface as he starts thrusting back and forth again, making sounds like this is even better. It's not, though. Your stomach isn't crushed by his weight against anything when he thrust anymore, but other than that it's just different, which means his cock is digging into new places, chafing you in new ways. Your own cock stands right up in the air, and somehow you feel even more exposed than before.

You can see who it is now, even through your stained shades. It's the dark blond guy. You don't want to know his name. You can see the others too, blurry sillouettes, chugging beer and masturbating and laughing and all of them watching you. You can see Bro's shades. You whimper – half from unbearable sensations and half from the last vestiges of shame – and throw your arms over your face. There are more laughter and comments at that.

"Hey," someone says – and that's Bro's voice, striking you harder than the others though it's not any louder. "It looks like the _little_ Dave wants some attention." And then there are hands on your cock – Bro's hands – pumping you up and down to the same beat as the pounding in your asshole, rubbing your tip just right to make it throb. You'd hate your brother touching you like this, but he's already _had_ you, so it doesn't matter. The aching pressure that's been building in your cock ever since they started fondling you in the first place is growing worse every time the cock in your ass strokes that horrible, pleasant spot, but what Bro is doing is making you finally build up to—

You come with a groan. Your own hot jizz splatters over your chest. It feels so good for a few seconds, like nothing else matters but the fact that all that tension just let go.

It leaves cold, limp emptiness behind. The feeling your body told you was pleasure earlier turns to nothing more than a physical irritation when the stranger's cock keeps drilling into you, and the chafing and pain and hollowness goes into stark relief. Hell, you really _are_ a smuppet. A masturbation toy. You can't tell if you're breathing in gasps or sobs.

"Stop being so coy already," a voice says, too close to ignore, especially when the owner forcefully pulls your arms away from your face and starts climbing on top of you. "I know you want more cock."

Your mouth is dry except for the disgusting residue of the last thing you had in it, and _no_ , you don't want more cock, but. Someone puts his ass down over your face, almost _sitting_ on you, and all you can see and smell is that ass. All you can _feel_ is the ongoing pistoning in your own ass. When another cock is pushed into your mouth, you just take it.

You know he wants you to suck, but there's just not much energy left in you. Your jaw aches around his upside-down erection, and even your tongue feels half-dead. You're inhaling his ass and balls and sweat through your nose and try to make your mouth work.

He's not satisfied with that. He grunts and slowly lowers himself against your face, pushing his cock deeper into your throat, and you know what he's doing but you can't make him stop. Your body twitches and your stomach heaves as you gag, but mercifully, he pulls out again. The cock in your ass pounds heavily into you, and you try desperately to breathe.

The cock in your mouth doesn't stay confined there but goes down again, even deeper, digging into a part of you that hadn't been completely violated yet, then pulling the tip back to touch your tongue as you convulse. You taste bile and try to steel your stomach against the heaving, or else you'll be fucked in a mouth full of puke, because you don't think he'd leave. But he's not happy with your _mouth_ , and he forces himself down again, and again, and again. 

You shudder violently, clenching your whole body and feeling the hard thing moving fast inside your other end even as you gag and choke. You can't breathe or think or understand much beyond the sour fire in your throat. The guy above you goes deeper for every stroke until the coarse hair at the base of his cock is pressed to your lips and nose for every thrust and his balls slap your face and you _have to breathe_.

Inhale. When he pulls back. Only then. Not rocket science.

There's a genital hair stuck in your nostril and his cock starts feeling like a cheesegrater ripping the back of your throat to shreds, but he doesn't stop. You barely notice when the other guy is finishes up and leaves your ass, except for a distant feeling of relief and hollowness.

This is not a blowjob. He's fucking one of your holes, penetrating you and tearing you open from the front instead of the back. Part of you realizes that your ass is empty and wishes he could just take you there instead – where you're already thoroughly fucked, and it'd be easier – while the other part wishes that you could stop fighting for breath and just suffocate already.

You don't even have enough presence of mind to close your thighs. Almost as if you do want more. The guys around you are talking, maybe arguing, but between the grating and the gagging and the smell and your too widely open jaws, nothing from your ears process properly.

Eventually the gagging spasms grow weaker, but it still hurts every time your throat is impaled. You feel someone climbing in between your legs and handling your ass and you don't even _care_. Someone else pushes your legs even wider apart. There are several hands between your thighs, and someone is fondling your balls – not enough to hurt much, but enough to make you notice with a shudder even through the barrage in your mouth and throat. You realize that your asshole _hurts_ , but no one is fucking it, so you don't know why. 

The guy above gets himself off in the end. His cock rises from your lips with a plop, and you catch a glimpse of the ceiling lamp above even as he releases his warm and sticky load on your face. It runs into your eyes under your shades and drips into your mouth before you manage to shut it, but you're disproportionally grateful that he didn't make you swallow, too. You wouldn't have been able to keep it down this time. He scrambles off you and disappears to have another beer or whatever these guys do when they're not in you, and all you can do is cough and gasp for the deliciously fresh air.

You start to realize that there are fingers in your ass again, for some reason. There are several guys bent over your formerly private parts, poking into your aching asshole with their hands. Their fingers are as wet and slimy as your jizz-filled hole, but you think the reason it hurts is because they're _pulling_ at it. Like they're actually trying to slowly rip you open for all the world to see, and you don't know if you're surprised. You feel air cold against tissue that is supposed to be closed up, like you've literally turned hollow, and you find that you're trembling. What they're doing feels so much worse when there's nothing more immediate going on in your face, and for a moment your instincts make you try to clench and pull away, but that only makes the fingers forcing you open more painful.

The only sound that comes out your battered throat is a groan, but listening comprehension is returning.

"I still dunno if it's possible with like a tiny little virgin."

"He's not a virgin anymore, is he?"

" _I'd say not!_ "

"Just look at how nicely he opens up."

"Mmm, guess the only way to find out is to try, eh?"

One of the guys – the one with the short brown beard – turns to your face and grins, widely and drunkenly. "It's getting better, baby," he says. "Real treat coming up." 

He doesn't stop to wait for a response, but lifts you by the thighs, pulling your legs up around his hips to straddle his stomach, while Don smiles a grossly friendly smile and goes around to haul you up by the armpits from behind. For a moment you're suspended between them. You try to raise your hands – you're not even sure why – but they're shaking. 

Don tells you to relax, but you can't, even though you should. He gets a better hold of you by wrapping his arms over your own arms and pushing you up against the bearded guy until he's practically hugging both him and you. Your torso is pressed between their sweaty chests like a hamburger, and you can feel both their cocks, hot and hard, against your skin. There's a bit of grunting between the two guys as they hoist you up a little bit further and then ease you onto the bearded guys cock almost by force of gravity. Your stretched, aching asshole is nothing but a cock snuggly. 

He's stiff inside you, filling you up in yet new ways as part of your weight is practically resting on his cock. You bury your face on his shoulder, trying to brace yourself for heavy thrusting.

A hand grabs your chin and forces your face up, though. You open your eyes to see a close reflection of your sticky, half-dead face in Bro's shades. You catch yourself again wishing that he wasn't looking at you, but it matters less than nothing anymore. He's standing on the living room table, bending over you, and you catch a glimpse of his cock being rigid again. His face is flushed with alcohol and lust, and he's giving you that little half-smile that is the only smile he ever makes. You used to love seeing that expression, but it only hurts, now.

"You're even more sexy when you've been fucked," he says, his thumb stroking the wet jizz on your cheek and your lower lip. "I wish you could look like this always." His voice is thick and unarticulated. "You wanna suck me too, right?"

He likes you better like this. You barely know who you are anymore. You close your eyes again, but before you realize what you're doing, you're making words. "Bro." The sound chafes your throat and comes out a croak. "Please—" You stop with a hitched whimper as the cock in your ass eases out and slams into you, impaling you deep inside your guts. You know it's no use. You really, truly have no right to protest _now_ , not after you've already let them have you so many times. It's too late to argue, it's already been established that you want this. You're better as a cockslut.

"Yeah," Bro says, like a reply to your half-spoken line. He straightens his back and the next moment he pushes his cock into your mouth, and you couldn't even _try_ to speak more.

The bearded guy rocks into you again, but Bro's cock in your mouth demands more attention. You silently beg that he won't fuck your throat, too, but right now he's still, just forcing your jaws apart and filling your mouth with hard flesh. You don't know if he's cleaned his cock after fucking you before or if the staleness you taste is your own ass. In either case it's easier than you expect to force the repulsion away and start to suck him with exhausted desperation, rubbing the back of your half-numb tongue against the tip of his cock. Just do it before it gets worse. The way he moans your name tells you he likes it. You wish he'd never say your name again, but this is the best you can do.

The people holding up you are shifting their holds; Don is wriggling behind you and his cock is dancing around your already filled ass. You go stiff with horror when your mind finally catches up with what it means, but right then Don's cock slowly starts to force itself up your ass right next to the other man's. 

You'd thought you'd already been opened and taken through the ass as far as they could possibly take it, but you were _wrong_. It feels like your opening is literally being shredded. You scream, but nothing comes out except a muffled noise around Bro's cock, and that makes it worse. Especially when Bro breathes your name in your face, and Don's cock is still moving up, tearing through you. You bite down on Bro's cock, muscles spasming in an attempt to do _something_ , but Bro just moans and rocks his hips to move himself against your teeth, like the convulsion was nothing but your attempt to please him. There's a moment when everything starts going black, and you think you're going to pass out, but you don't. 

You're still here. The world takes on a red sheen of agony as Don's cock goes level with the first one inside you, not just opening you wider than you should be able to go, but filling your insides doubly, making you feel stuffed and stretched and broken from within. Bro is only rocking the upper end of his cock slightly in your mouth, like he's enjoying your tenseness, but he keeps you from screaming or gasping. It's like you're being plugged – nothing comes out.

Don and the other guy starts thrusting, rubbing against each other inside you and alternating so that one pulls out while the other shoves himself in. The pain isn't just stinging or aching, but _cutting_ , like knives in your asshole with every movement they make. If they touch the good spot inside you it's completely overwhelmed by the agony. You don't even notice when you start crying again, tears merging with the other wetness on your cheeks. You're breathing with shallow gasps through your nose, and you're not exactly sucking Bro, but your mouth moves and twitches half involuntarily, doing things to his cock that only makes it harder.

You can't feel Bro moaning your name any longer, nor what either of the two guys fucking your ass say or do, and the rest of the room is just gone even though your eyes are open. You're barely conscious of _yourself_. All you can feel is three cocks inside you, one plugging you up and two ripping you apart.

You want to die. You want to literally fall into pieces and scatter on the floor, no tight holes that can be filled and stretched and torn. But that doesn't happen, not even now. Instead your insides are being speared constantly, one cock and then the other in your innermost parts, and your hole is cut like with a saw when two cocks move in and out, back and forth, never stopping and never leaving. 

You couldn't even guess how long it takes before they're done. Anything less than 'a universe's lifetime' feels like an underestimate. Bro comes first, his cock shuddering in your mouth and filling it with salty cum before he pulls it out when it slackens. You can't tell where he goes. Some of the fluid drools off your chin and down the chest of the bearded guy when your head falls forward again. You're too weak to scream now, but you make pained, gasping noises at the continuing movements in your ass. You manage to swallow some of Bro's jizz, getting it out of the way, though it hurts your throat. A little bit stays like a coating in your mouth and you can't even care.

Don and the bearded guy come almost simultaneously just a few thrusts later, and even the feeling of rushing liquid against sore tissue inside you is a relief compared to their grating movements. Your legs are dropped, making you yelp, and then all three of you crumble to lie on the ground. You're still packaged between them, but their limp cocks slip out of you on their own. Their cum stings when it trickles out your ass, and they're breathing hard and fast against your back and chest.

You don't try to move. You don't try to do anything but make yourself unexist.

Nothing happens. You still exist, still wrapped in naked limbs and sticky jizz, still seeped with pain and hollowness. There are tired, satisfied voices complimenting you for the experience they had, and you know they must be right, you _are_ a good fuck. Whether you want to be or not, and perhaps you do want that. It would make everything so much easier. Why do you feel so broken and hurt?

Bro is rubbing your shoulder, happy with you. You should feel good. You really should.

You half-listen to lazy conversation about what it feels like to fuck you, but no one sounds as eager and tight and horny as before. You still expect to be touched and penetrated again at any moment, because you're still here and your ass and mouth are still here, and being fucked is the point of you. Bro said you're better like this.

It takes a while before it occurs to you that maybe they're _done_ with you, at least for tonight. You manage a deep, shaky breath and realize that the bearded guy has rolled away from you and is snoring softly under the table. His cock is visible, limp and ugly.

Don is moving away too, maybe to the futon. Suddenly there's no one on you or in you or anywhere. You feel weirdly cold and bare as well as and exhausted and thirsty; your ass hurts with a stinging, throbbing pain that echoes through your entire body, and your insides are empty and raw. Your mouth tastes like Bro's cum and that should be fine. You have no right to complain. You must have wanted this.

You stay where you are on the floor, and somehow exhaustion and resignation wins out over everything else and you drift off to sleep.

 

You wake up trembling. Dream images of Bro's cock fills your mind; him pushing it down through your mouth and into your throat, feet after feet of it until it tangles inside your guts. And then he's fucking your ass, or maybe he's doing both at once, or maybe it's someone else, but you know the two cocks are meeting inside you because all that's left of you is a hollow shell. 

You blink hard and try to curl up in fetal position, and at first the pain inside you makes you think the dream was real.

No. Not the dream. Just everything else. You try to calm down, but you're tense and breathing too fast. It's half dark around you, which means the lights are off. You're no longer on the floor, but up on the futon, and someone put a blanket over you. It's such a normal gesture that it feels out of place. Your shades are gone from your face, but the stickiness is still there.

The futon has been unfolded from couch to bed, and you can feel a warm body against your back, sharing it with you. There's someone else down by your feet. You wish they weren't so close, but it shouldn't actually matter when they've all been _inside_ you.

You make a half-hearted attempt to get up, but it doesn't work, and not only because you're terrified of waking anyone; that would be like asking them to pay attention to you. But it also fails because just moving your thighs and the muscles around your ass feels like knives stabbing into your abdomen. It makes you bury your face in the softness of the futon to make yourself stay quiet. It _hurts_ , damn it. 

You're sore from jaw to thighs and beyond, too. But it was your first time, so of course it hurt a bit. It's okay. It's not so bad. You did stay up with your game when you could guess they were going to come here and be horny. It should have been obvious, and it probably was, and besides, if you really didn't want it, you should have fought harder.

Bro wanted to fuck you. He loved it. Even if the others leave and never come back, Bro is going to put his cock into you again and again, so you _have to_ want it. Yeah.

 

You wake up the second time after dreaming about lying naked on the street, waiting for someone to come and fuck you while people walked past and stared. You feel seriously ill.

The living room is bright again, and you can hear voices and the shower running. You keep your eyes closed and don't move, trying to sink through the surface of the futon and disappear from the face of the earth, or at least fake unconsciousness. It actually works, at least to the point where you can hear the door close and you know Bro's guests are gone. Even then you still don't want to move.

You feel a cold shiver when Bro sits down heavily next to you and touches your shoulder. At least he's no longer naked, though you are under the blanket. He sighs, and you'd deny that you were afraid of him, but you don't know what he'll do.

"Dave," he says. "You awake?"

"No." Your voice sounds strange from a throat that is both parched and sore.

"Fair enough. Look, I've got a mother of all hangover headaches but I've got a feeling we were being a bit rough with you last night. Maybe you picked a bad time to confess. I know _I_ would have been gentler if I'd have been sober." He says it matter-of-factly, not apologizing. You can't remember confessing a fucking thing, but maybe you did, and then everything that happened _is_ your fault. "I just wanna know that you're alright," he finishes.

"I'm fine." You have no idea what else to say. _You and your friends gang-raped me last night and I feel like a piece of shit_ is out of the question. Just thinking it almost makes you sob, but you cover it up by shifting your position a bit.

"That's my lil' bro," he says and offers you a fistbump. You get up on an elbow and take it, then grimace in pain as you force yourself to sit up, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. Your ass feels like it's been stuffed with broken glass.

"Yeah, I know it can hurt a bit after taking it up the ass for the first time," Bro says, noticing your grimace. "I remember you being amazing, though, so you should be proud. It'll be even better next time." He gives you that half-smile, and you have no idea what you feel about it. "Do you want breakfast before or after a shower?"

You hesitate. "Can I have a glass of water?" you ask in the end. Your whole mouth is so dry.

"Of course." He gets up and goes over to the kitchenette. His steps are heavy enough that you do think he's got a bad hangover, and he's still serving you. And he still wants to fuck you.

You're going to have the water and then try to get the grime off you. You're not sure a shower will help, but you'll try. Maybe if you rip your skin off. And then you'll hide in your room and chat about ridiculous nonsense with your pals and watch kittens on YouTube. You're not thinking about the future.


End file.
